4 January 1934

THE IDIOSYNCRASIES OF 'FLOURBAG' 

A White Mule Which Possessed "It"

"Flourbag" was a white mule with a personality, whose mission in life seems to have been to relieve the monotony of those who, but for her existence, would have found conditions in the wide spaces of the North too calm to be interesting. But "Flourbag" always kept the people about her guessing

Flourbag was a very well grown white mule. She was brought to Adelaide with a mob of horses from a station on the Diamentina, and was offered for sale by auction at Barker Brothers' saleyards. I bought her and afterwards met 'Mr. Brown' (the vendor) . I asked him why he had sold such a good animal. He replied that she was a perfect nuisance on the place. 'We could not keep her out of the kitchen,' he explained, 'and she ate everything she got hold of, even the clothes from the line.' But she was a good worker. 

I sent her up north, and my first experience with her was on a trip up country. I was driving Flourbag and three horses attached to a buggy. I camped the first night, and hobbled them out. It being a wet night, I made my bed under the buggy, with my feet between the rear wheels. Over my rug I had spread my oilskin coat. About 2 o'clock in the morning I was awakened by a tugging at my rug. I saw Flourbag's white face, and she was chewing some thing. It was my rug. She had some six inches of it down her throat when I managed to pull it away. I could not find my oilskin coat when I got up in the morning, but I found three buttons that had been on the coat; and the upper portion of it. Flourbag had swallowed the rest. My next experience of her was at a wayside hotel at which I camped. Four new panes of glass had been put in a window that day. Next morning three broken panes were found on the ground. Flourbag had eaten the fresh putty from around them. 

Eventually I left her on an outback station. She was kept in the horse paddock, which surrounded the homestead. There was a small one-roomed hut close to the fence in which the boundary rider used to camp when he came round. He had arrived, and dumped his belongings. Bushmanlike, he made his bed on the bunk, and put his valuables under his pillow. Then he walked over to where some men were working a quarter of a mile away. He had not been there long when one of the men asked him if he had shut the door. He replied that he had not. 'Look out,' said the man, 'Flourbag is about.' 

The boundary rider hurriedly made for the hut, but he was too late. Flourbag was in, and had upset everything. She was comfortably chewing his Savings Bank pass book. With a 'we we' and a drive of her heels she cleared out. To his dismay, he discovered that Flourbag had eaten some of his clothes, the half of two pass books, and some twenty five pounds in cheques and notes, which had been given him to place in the bank for two men on an adjoining station. Fortunately he was able to get fresh cheques, but the five pounds in notes was gone. 

Some time later, a very droughty season. I was on the station. Only one buggy horse turned up in the morning, and, being in a hurry to get away. I said, "I will take 'Flourbag.' " "I can't catch her," he said. "We have not been able to for some time." I went to get her, and found her just coming out of the engine house at the well, where she had been inspecting things. 

I slowly approached her, and, taking a stick of tobacco out of my pocket, held it out. She promptly commenced to chew it, and, while she was so engaged, I put my handkerchief round her neck, and led her away. I got a good day's work out of her. Next morning I wanted her again, but she was very cautious. She would not let me get near her. 

I sat down on a stump and commenced to whistle. Soon her nose came down over my shoulder, and I gave her a bit of bread. While she was chewing it, I tried to catch her, but no good. I casually sauntered to wards the stockyard and sat down again, gave her a bit more bread, but still could not catch her. So I walked into the yard and sat down. In she came for more bread, and I shut the gate— and had another day's work out of her. 

When the East- West line was in course of construction. Flourbag got astray, and took up her quarters at one of the railway camps. She was always waiting for the horses to go out to work. Then she would clean up their feed-boxes, cruise round, and eat all the rubbish. Occasionally she would enjoy a feed of clothes off the clothes line. The superintendent wrote, asking me to remove her. I told him he had better put her in a truck and send her to me. 

Eventually she got to a siding, where the stationmaster and his wife resided. Their kitchen was some 20 yards from the house. One day his wife came out of the kitchen, leaving the door open. When she returned she saw Flourbag's tail showing through the door. She screamed. Flourbag gave a 'We we!' and kicked out at her, then suddenly looked out. She lurched out with her heels, and the woman narrowly escaped being struck. She fell down in a faint. The stationmaster got his gun and was going to shoot Flourbag, but a teamster persuaded him to refrain. 

Eventually, I sent a man to bring her home. On examination. I found the poor animal's hindquarters perforated with small shot wounds. Subsequently, my manager sold her, and after a brief stay at Tarcoola, where she was a greater nuisance than ever, someone shot her.— 'Unohoo.' Medindie.

TOMMY GOT SQUARE

On a sheep station near the south western border of South Australia, a half-caste boy of about 17, known as 'Tommy,' was once rescued from an infuriated bull-camel by a white man, called 'Roving Jim.' 

The camel had unexpectedly rushed from a clump of mallee, and was proceeding to trample Tommy to death, when Jim interposed, skilfully conquering the animal, and saving the lad. 'All right, Jim,' said the grateful Tommy. 'Me no bin forget. Me payum you back byim bye. You bin see.' 

About a year later 'Roving Jim' was shooting rabbits when he tripped and shot himself in the leg. He lay in the same position all day, and with night fast approaching began to despair. A solitary figure coming along the track proved to be half-caste Tommy. 

He quickly sensed the position, put Jim on his back, and lugged him three miles in pitch darkness to an hotel where a doctor was residing. When within a mile of the hotel, Tommy was bitten by a snake. But that didn't worry him. He was more concerned for his friend Jim. When Tommy saw the doctor he said, 'Me and Jim are square now, by cripes.' Then he collapsed and died.

Story Of A Bell

The school bell in Strathalbyn has an interesting history. It has rung children in and out of school since the 80's, but few know that previous to that, it was a mine bell. 

Several mines have been worked in the district around Strathalbyn, notably the Glen Albyn, the Strathalbyn, and the Whel-Ellen. There are many old hands who still declare that there is payable ore there, if the right people could be persuaded to take the matter up. 

In the early days there was an iron foundry in Strathalbyn, and the hinges of the Church of England door were made in the town by Mr. G. H. French. Whether the school bell was made locally I am not able to say, but it originally be longed to the Whel-Ellen mine, and when, that venture closed down, and the machinery was sold, several public spirited gentlemen bought the bell and presented it to the school. As far as I know there is no inscription on either the bell or the frame on which it is hung to commemorate the gift, nor do I think the children are ever reminded of the interesting history of their bell.— Auntie Bee, Ceduna. 

Where There's A Will There's A Way 

In Mt. Barker years ago there was a woman who was a marked 'bad pay.' All the business people had let her have goods and had found it impossible to collect their money. 

This woman wanted a pair of boots for her husband, and went to one of the shops in the town and asked could she take them home for the man to try on. The storekeeper at first said 'No,' but finally allowed her to take one boot. He felt sure that would be no good to her without its mate. He was to find out that he did not yet know the extent of her cleverness. 

She went to another storekeeper, told the same story, and made the same proposal, that she take only one boot. But she was careful to take the boot for the other foot. 

Now she had a pair of working boots for her husband, and the two storekeepers had only one odd one each. After trying their best to get their property back, and of course failing, they decided to toss up to see which should take the boots left on their hands.— Auntie Bee, Ceduna.

The Tales Of John Bevis 

The story in 'The Chronicle' recently about John Bevis reminded me of another. John was a great 'leg-puller' and romancist. Here is one of his tall ones:— 

'The drought was at its height, and John was carting water. The day was a real scorcher, and later a thunderstorm worked up. The heavy rain was accompanied by hailstones so large that when one struck the top of a strainer-post, it forced it more than a foot underground. 

After the storm the mosquitoes came in millions, biting John so much that he was obliged to crawl into the water tank for shelter from the pests. Blocking the tap and man-hole, he thought he would have a little peace. The mosquitoes were not to be outdone, however, and presently he saw their trunks penetrating through the side of the tank. 

Taking a hammer, he began to rivet the ends of the trunks on the inside. Still the pests came in, and his arm ached with the exertion. Suddenly the tank began to move. He felt it sway dizzily. Yes, the mosquitoes were flying away with John in the tank. 

Another story told by his brother, Archie Bevis, was that when boring for water in artesian areas, one of the workman was caught in the jet of water that shot from the ground. He went up a great height, sitting on top of the water. He had no chance of getting down, for no ladder or rope was available at the moment. 

"What did you do?" Archie was asked. "Why, just got a long pole and pushed him off the top," he replied.— 'Naronod,' Karoonda. 

Lost Plum Pudding 

Northern farmers are reputed to be resourceful. In dry years they go to distant parts seeking employment, to get money to keep themselves and their selections going until fortune once more smiles on them in the form of bounteous rains. 

One dry year about 30 years ago Mr. B., a farmer from the Carrieton district, after sowing his crop, migrated to Gulnare and got work in a construction gang on the Bundaleer Reservoir. 

There he fell in love with Miss M. In November the swain reluctantly bade his lady-love au revoir and went home to harvest his grain. 

With Christmas approaching, the girl decided to send her sweetheart a Christmas pudding. But she sent it to Hammond instead of Carrieton, where it lay unclaimed for nearly 12 months. 

After that interval the Hammond station master learned that Mr. B. lived on a selection near Carrieton, and forwarded the parcel. In the meantime Mr. B. had sailed for another State to try his luck on the goldfields, but a neighbor of his took delivery with the idea of sending the parcel on. 

But when he opened it he found a Christmas pudding, so hard from senile decay and exposure that he could not cut it with an axe. It was a relic of a broken adventure for Mr. B. and the lady of the story did not get married and live happily ever after. — 'Patsy Magintee,' Bruce.

Bought His Experience

Even a trip to Kangaroo Island can provide excitement— provided you make it yourself. One young man will always remember his holiday there. 

He boarded the Karatta at Glenelg on Christmas Eve, and the ship arrived at Hog Bay early Christmas morning. On the way over the young fellow be came friendly with some strangers. They celebrated a little too much. 

When the boat berthed at Hog Bay, Bill was feeling very fit. His new friends bet him he would not be game to have a swim. He donned his bathers and dived off the stern of the ship, and was enjoying himself in the water when the vessel steamed away. 

The cold water must have cleared his brain, for when he saw the ship departing he climbed up the steps on to the jetty and called out. But he was too late. Here he was marooned on the jetty and the only clothes he possessed were his bathers. Everything else was on the ship. 

He made his way to the town in a rug someone lent him, and after borrowing some clothes, was lucky to get a lift to Kingscote with a minister who happened to be going that way. But when he arrived at Kingscote, although he recovered his luggage and his clothes he found that his new 'friends' had been through his pockets and all his money had gone. 

Bill found his pals had only been let out of gaol the night before the ship sailed. He returned home a sadder and wiser young man. — 'K.I.,' Kangaroo Island.